“Not much of a cook, are you?”

Maren crossed her arms in disappointment, staring at the charred remains of what used to be potatoes and carrots. Hanging her head in defeat, A’nallia timidly kicked a pebble across the stone floor of the outdoor kitchen. Maren, a woman only slightly less grey-haired and wrinkled than I’liara, with an only slightly less powerful brand along her neck, was directly in charge of running the house and managing the house staff, and had spent the past three weeks attempting to find ways the new girl could be useful to her. So far, she had found very few. A’nallia could do some manual labor, so she helped wash and dry clothes and pick vegetables from the garden. But the house already had a rhythm, and everyone had a routine, and she often discovered she was just in the way. As far as any unique abilities, healing was the only thing she was somewhat good at, and that wasn’t a helpful talent until someone was sick or injured. Still, Maren insisted that no one stayed at the manor for free and she would be of some use. So, every day she did what she could and tried to learn the things she could not.

“That’s enough for today.”

Maren let out a heavy sigh and shooed A’nallia away. It was still early, but if she couldn’t help with preparing the evening meal, there was nothing left for her to do. Sometimes the most assistance she could provide was to not disturb the other servants. With a quick bow, A’nallia rushed out of the kitchen into the yard, almost running to distance herself from the taskmistress. She wasn’t cruel, but she also didn’t hide her low opinion of this new purchase and had little patience for her mistakes. The more time they spent apart, the better.

Slowing her pace as she reached the outer edge of the garden, A’nallia put her hands in her pockets and began to swing her skirt from side to side. She had other dresses, but this plain, faded blue one had become her favorite. She found that a slow stroll, hands deep in her pockets and sun on her face, usually helped to clear her mind and calm her spirit. It was a simple thing, but it was unlike anything she had experienced as a workhouse street rat or Tower witch. The air here was fresh, the sun was often bright and warm, and it was always quiet enough to hear the wind whistle and the birds sing. A’nallia closed her eyes and stood still, taking nature in and releasing the stress from her daily failures and subsequent scoldings.

“Nalli!”

She jumped at the call, hands over her chest as her lungs seized and trapped her breath. Spinning around, she found a girl not much older than herself, whose neck craned back to look up at her. The girl grabbed A’nallia’s arms to keep her balanced, crystal blue eyes bright and smiling.

“O’rana! Are you trying to stop my heart?”

“Don’t be silly, Nalli. You aren’t so fragile, are you?”

O’rana waved some tiny flying insect away from her face and grinned wide, eyes still sparkling. She had a large smear of dirt that went from nose to ear and her hairline was wet with sweat. Releasing her muddy hands from the blue dress, leaving prints on both sides, she interlocked her fingers with A’nallia’s instead, dragging her into the center of the garden. Her twin, O’raena, kneeled next to a row of tomato plants, gingerly picking the ripe fruit and placing it into a large wicker basket. An empty basket sat beside it and O’rana pointed excitedly.

“Come pick with us! I could use someone to talk to. And I saw the tyrant’s face as you left. I am interested to know what you did to her this time!”

The three girls kneeled together in the dirt, picking tomatoes and weeds, while A’nallia recounted her disasters of the day. O’rana always found the stories extremely entertaining and A’nallia didn’t have enough pride to be embarrassed. She enjoyed the company and liked making the girl laugh, even if it was at her own expense. They were closest in age at the manor and it was nice to finally have a friend. As they chatted, O’raena only sat beside them in silence, focused on her work.

O’rana and O’raena were visibly identical. Waist-long wavy blond hair, always a bit dusty from working in the garden, with sharp blue eyes, a round little nose, and plump, round cheeks. Their short, muscular frames were perfectly made for working with the earth, along with their weak but handy nature magic. Nature magic, much like basic life magic, was not suited well for battle and not valuable to the Tower, so these witches were the most likely to be sold. Having the same magic in the same auction, the twins were lucky to have been bought together. Few demons had need for two young witches with weak nature magic. A’nallia liked to believe it was because their master hadn’t wanted to separate the sisters, even though that seemed like an overly emotional and impractical decision for him to make.

She chuckled at the thought of him silently walking down the road, O’rana prattling away behind him. He certainly regretted that purchase.

O’rana continued to chat, mostly to herself at this point, not needing A’nallia to participate for the conversation to continue. O’raena stayed silent, shifting herself and her basket to the next row of plants. While the twins were virtually indistinguishable in looks, it was always simple to tell them apart. It was as if a single personality split into two individuals in the womb - O’rana, outgoing, talkative, curious, and brave, and O’raena, closed off, silent, serious, and shy. O’rana said that ever since they'd been taken to the Tower as children, her sister had not said a single word. She liked to say that since she did the speaking for them both, of course she was always talking. When asked if something happened to cause O’raena to be silent, O’rana would just shrug and push the question off. A’nallia wondered if there was more of a story here beyond just trauma caused by the Tower, but she didn’t pry. They all had secrets and some were best left untold.

“Nalli? Nalli, are you listening?”

O’rana was also the only one at the manor who called her Nalli.